


Delay Is the Deadliest Form of Denial

by NurseDarry, sati_lotus



Category: True Blood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 21:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/pseuds/NurseDarry, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sati_lotus/pseuds/sati_lotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can only lie to yourself for so many centuries. Set between Seasons 4 and 5, though sadly, Season 5 has made the story woefully AU. (Contains no spoilers for S5).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delay Is the Deadliest Form of Denial

Eric took a sip of the luke-warm Tru Blood and winced. He would never learn to embrace the concept of synthetic blood, but he was too busy with an unfinished stack of paperwork to feed properly that night. 

 

_**One hundred years together**  
Lapland_

_“These humans are cold, their blood is cold.” Eric would have discarded the body had he not known that Godric would chastise him for it._

_Godric raised his red-stained face. “Eric, your blood is cold, these humans’ blood is not. Stop complaining and drink.”_

_“Did you hear them earlier? Talking of Vinland?” Eric gestured to their prey. “They will never go there now.”_

_Godric finished and cast the body aside. It would be frozen or eaten by morning. “What makes you think they would? It is far away from here. Though, travelling does sound like a good idea.”_

_Eric finished drinking the blood and a second body joined the first._

_“I shall go south,” Godric declared. But his expression showed none of the surety with which he spoke._

_There was no hesitation. “Where you go, Godric, I will follow,” Eric said, and watched as the light returned to his Maker’s eyes._

 

Eric started and stared blindly at the invoice in his hands, his unbeating heart in his throat.

o0o0o0o0o0o

All around him, the humans danced, drank raspberry vodka cocktails designed to look like blood, or cuddled up to the vampires in the hope of getting lucky. Unnoticed, Eric moved through the throng of people.

He stopped. There was someone behind him, someone familiar. Smiling, he turned. 

Godric.

At the back of his mind, Eric knew this couldn’t be right, Godric was dead, but strangely it felt perfectly fine. Lowering his eyes, he gave a deep nod, ever respectful of his ancient Maker.

“Godric.” 

Saying nothing in response, though giving a slight nod in acknowledgement, Godric scanned the club with pale blue eyes. The humans paid no more attention to him than they did Eric. Again, Eric didn’t find this peculiar.

Eric's eyes were drawn to Godric's hair. It looked just as it had when they’d first met. He reached out, but his hand hovered above Godric's head. He wasn’t quite game to touch his Maker without permission. “I like your hair best when it’s like this.” He smiled wryly, amused by the tangled mess. “Even if it is filthy.”

He jumped when Godric smacked his hand away. His Maker motioned towards a bottle of Tru Blood in Eric's hand. “You would rather drink that instead of the true blood of a human?”

Eric looked down in surprise. “I...” he started, but trailed off. He hadn’t even realised he was holding anything. 

Baring his long fangs, Godric sneered. “You would deny what you truly are?” He waved his hand, scornful. “Walk amongst these pitiful creatures as though you were one of them?” His Maker stepped closer, narrowing his eyes. “You are not one of them.”

Eric took a step back. “I know that,” he said nervously. He dropped the bottle and the fake blood splashed his feet. He tried to think, but his mind felt sluggish. “I drink from humans all the time.”

He knew that he had fed on humans recently, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall who or when.

Godric chuckled, low and ominous. “But you let them live, don’t you, Eric?” He grabbed Eric's hair, pulling his head down, and a shudder ran through Eric as he was forced to meet the cold eyes. “Why?”

Eric blinked, trying to figure out an answer that wouldn’t cause Godric to become even more contemptuous of him. But he had no answer himself and so could say nothing.

As the silence stretched on, Godric snorted in disgust and shoved Eric away. Moving with lightning-fast speed, his Maker bolted across the crowded room, grabbed a human by the throat and easily dragged it back over before Eric had a chance to react.

It took a second for Eric to recognise Ginger in Godric's arms. 

Godric crushed her throat before she could even scream – which in all fairness was probably for the best for their eardrums – and then threw her towards Eric. Eric caught her awkwardly and looked up, uneasily.

“Prove you are a creature of Death,” Godric said quietly, raising his chin. “Drain her.”

“But...” Eric stared down at Ginger’s terrified face. Even though she couldn’t scream, Ginger began to realise what was about to happen and started to struggle, but Eric just tightened his grip.

Godric took a step closer and growled softly. “It is a worthless creature.”

Under Godric's expectant gaze and sensing he had no choice, Eric extended his fangs and sank them into Ginger’s neck.

Instantly, a pulsing river filled his mouth, hot and blissful, and he closed his eyes. Eric pressed his mouth against her skin, sucking harder, wanting more. Her blood spread through him like a fire, the most satisfying sensation a vampire could ever experience. Not even sex could compare to this.

He felt her heartbeat begin to fade and he could have howled in disappointment. Then she was dead. Panting, Eric tossed the corpse aside. 

Wiping the blood from his mouth, Eric was surprised to see his Maker kneeling beside him. Smiling, Godric leaned forward, his mouth gently brushing against Eric's ear.

“This is what I made you for, my Child.”

Completely sated, Eric sighed and nodded in agreement...

Eric jerked awake. _A dream_ , he realised, running his fingers through his blond hair. It was only a dream. He thought of Godric's detestable attitude and reconsidered. More of a nightmare.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he realised his hands were shaking. He stared at them, grimacing, remembering the last time a dream had rattled him so much.

That had been about Godric too. Getting to his feet, he laughed bitterly. And he hadn’t been too pleasant then either. 

Listlessly, Eric checked the time. He was expected to be in Fangtasia tonight. He crinkled his nose. He had an hour or so to get there and was in no mood to have humans gawking at him. The past few nights had been difficult enough and Eric knew that if he were to be truly honest with himself, he hadn’t been this miserable since the days straight after Godric had met the sun.

It was bad enough to be rejected by Sookie, in front of Bill no less, and the fight with Pam was horrible too, with both of them too proud to apologise. But the worst part was the humiliation of being careless enough to have a coven of witches cast such a degrading spell on him. Of losing every single one of his memories.

 _I got them back._ Eric opened the closet to choose an outfit before having a shower. He looked over a red shirt. _I remember Godric when he turned me._ He pushed that shirt aside, considering a grey one instead. _And I remember Godric when he died._

For a moment he stared at the grey shirt without really seeing it. Thinking of nothing but Godric's face. 

A pang of hunger brought him back to reality. He scowled and grabbed a black shirt out of the closet. No point in dwelling on a stupid dream, he decided.

The anguish of losing Godric still lingered and probably always would, but there was no reason to grieve forever.

It was just a dream.

o0o0o0o0o0o

Eric drove quickly. The scenery was familiar and dull, and for the most part, he ignored it.

He did note that the Baptist church on the outskirts of town was uncharacteristically lit up, and his sensitive ears picked up some fairly decent singing coming from within as he whizzed by. 

 

_**Two hundred years together**  
Jerusalem_

_“Did you know this man? This_ Jesus _?” Eric warily eyed the Crusader camp._

_Godric was crouched silently beside him in the bushes._

_Eric disliked sneaking up on men like this. He wanted to tear through the camp, leaving mayhem behind him._

_“No, I did not. But I heard his name in every place I stopped on my journey to you.”_

_Eric smiled, recalling how Godric liked to tease him about how his life’s sole purpose had been to create his Child._

_“We are the gods here, not some mere human,” Eric argued. “We could plunder this city more skilfully than any mortal army marching in the name of faith.”_

_“Perhaps. But by acting with stealth, less suspicion will fall on us than the soldiers. And I have no desire to meet anyone’s god tonight.”_

_Eric turned to his Maker. “I was a soldier once. I would not allow that to happen.”_

_Godric reached out in the darkness and took his Child’s hand. “I know, Eric. And I thank every god for that.”_

o0o0o0o0o0o

Eric scowled at the backed-up traffic, sorely regretting his decision to drive to Bill’s manor in Bon Temps instead of simply flying there. But when he’d woken up, the ground had been freshly wet and the air had felt heavy and damp, so he’d decided to take his bright red Corvette for an outing.

Of course, it hadn’t rained since he’d backed out the driveway.

 _When was the last time I drove down this road?_ Eric wondered, unsure if there had been road works the last time. If it wasn’t road works causing the holdup, it was likely an accident. _If it is a car accident, I could be stuck here for hours,_ he realised grimly. The line moved forward slightly. Barely.

To make it even more intolerable, he’d forgotten his iPod, and was reduced to listening to the radio, which wasn’t picking up anything decent. He skipped through country music channels (which he couldn’t stand), awful Top 40 songs (unable to understand what people saw in such bland music), uninspired talkback shows (none about vampires tonight surprisingly), before finding a jazz station that he could handle. 

As the minutes dragged by and the line of cars continued to only crawl along, he got more annoyed. _I have a million things to do tonight,_ he thought irritably, _and I’d rather be anywhere than having to speak to Bill._ He was extremely suspicious as to why Bill had demanded he come to Bon Temps. Nothing good ever seemed to come of it.

Eric smirked to himself. None of the royals he served under seemed to like the fact they had a thousand-year-old vampire in their territory. _Even though I’ve been nothing but loyal..._ He frowned thoughtfully, reconsidering his treatment of Sophie-Anne. But there had been method in the madness. And Bill had done far worse, so he was hardly a poster boy for loyalty. Even betrayed his Maker...

A siren started blaring, flashing lights started up, and an ambulance sped down the other side of the road. _So it is an accident._

Half an hour dragged by before Eric was close enough to see what had happened, and he also discovered that the road hadn’t been blocked off at all. People had simply been slowing down to have a good gawk.

Eric snarled in fury. Just a bunch of goddamned stickybeaks! Despite the fact that he was running late, Eric decided to look too. 

There was a car upside-down in a ditch and another car was wrapped around a tree, but it appeared that no-one was seriously hurt. They’d probably swerved to avoid a deer, he figured.

Jason Stackhouse and Andy Bellefleur were at the scene, Andy standing by a woman still being seen to by two EMTs and Jason speaking with two men who must have been witnesses.

He glanced at the EMT still checking over the woman. Even from his car, Eric could see that she had a broken arm and numerous lacerations from broken glass. One sip of vampire blood and all those cuts would be healed and that arm would be well on the way to fixed. Having seen the drama, he sped up, though still disinclined to hurry to Bill’s house.

 _What a pity for the humans we can’t give them our blood as medicine,_ he thought idly as he pulled up in front of Bill’s place.

There was no doorman to greet him, which meant that Bill was using his security camera system to watch his front door. Eric sighed. _Whatever this is about isn’t going to be pleasant._ He wondered if the other sheriffs were subjected to this bullshit or if he was singled out. At least Sophie-Anne was a bitch to everyone.

He pushed the front door open and immediately went into Bill’s office. The sooner this was over the better; he had many things to get done tonight.

Bill was behind his desk, frowning as he tapped away on an iPad. Eric's mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh. Bill obviously wanted to appear too busy to acknowledge him straight away, but Eric was tall enough to see what was on the screen.

Bill was playing Angry Birds and losing.

“The little piggies have such a nasty smirk, don’t they, Majesty?” he said nonchalantly. Bill scowled at being caught out.

“You’re late, Sheriff.”

“My apologies, Majesty,” Eric said, trying to sound sincere. “Unfortunately I was detained by traffic.”

“I know.” Bill smiled at him, dickishly smug. “I saw a traffic report on Bon Temps News.” He narrowed his eyes. “Next time, call if you’re going to be late, Sheriff Northman.”

Glancing around the ornately decorated office, Eric just nodded, not sorry at all. “Of course, Majesty.” 

Bill continued to hold the iPad. “Take a seat, Eric.”

 _My, my, politeness?_ Eric raised his eyebrows, amazed. _He must want a favour then._ He sat down in one of the ridiculously uncomfortable chairs, waiting expectantly for Bill to begin.

Bill drummed his fingers on the desk. “You’ve had no side effects from the memory spell?”

“None.” Thank the gods. “Fit as a fiddle.”

Bill crinkled his nose. “I’ve never understood that saying. It makes no sense.”

“Need to keep up with the slang, Bill,” Eric said dryly. “Keeps you young.” 

Bill snorted. “Somehow I doubt Godric taught you that principle.”

 _What he taught me has kept me alive for over a thousand years._ Eric's smile tightened and his voice became colder. “Though by the looks of it, you were older than me when you were turned, so maybe you should stick to the ‘stay off my lawn’ type of thing.”

“Very funny.” But Bill didn’t notice that he’d struck a nerve. He shuffled some papers around on his desk. He seemed to be stalling. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.” 

Eric resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Your concern for my wellbeing is most touching, Majesty.”

“Now,” Bill said briskly, ignoring his sarcasm, “to business. As you now know, Sophie-Anne left Louisiana broke and I have been trying my best not to demand too much money from my subjects to restore our financial stability.”

“Yes.” Eric smiled sweetly. “You wouldn’t want to inspire an uprising against such an inexperienced king over money, after all.” 

Bill narrowed his eyes, as if trying to hear a threat in Eric's words. “Sheriff Babbitt lost all ten of her all-night convenience stores to Fellowship of the Sun bombings last night.”

“Bombings?” Eric grimaced at the bad news. How had that not been on the radio? “Any casualties?”

“None of Cleo’s people were hurt, nor were any humans, thank God.” Bill sighed. “But they’re all out of work now.”

“I can only take on so many new employees, Bill, without the current ones bitching about losing admirers,” Eric warned. Dealing with an over-inflated ego was incredibly tiresome, but a popular vampire brought in repeat business. Nor would Cleo appreciate it if her vampires wanted to stay at Fangtasia instead of working as store clerks when her shops were up and running again. He did not want to piss off Cleo.

But when Bill looked at the iPad, the screen pointedly turned from Eric's view, he didn’t think that was where the conversation was actually headed. “How have the demonstrations in front of Fangtasia been going?” Bill asked.

“They haven’t dropped off,” Eric said, watching Bill closely. “Nearly every night there are roughly thirty humans protesting our existence.”

Bill didn’t look up. His eyes weren’t flicking from side to side as though he were reading, but down, as though tracking columns in a spreadsheet. “It hasn’t affected your profits, I take it?”

 _Considering the cut you make from us, you would know,_ Eric thought irritably. Kings and Queens automatically received a percentage of their subject’s income. Nowadays it was called a tax, though it was really a tribute. Since the Great Revelation, vampires were now ‘taxed’ by the King and taxed by the IRS and humans knew nothing of it. 

All he said was, “Not too noticeably. Pam has suggested some theme nights might increase custom.”

“Pam?” Bill looked up from the iPad. “Oh, you’re talking to her again, are you?”

When Eric's face darkened, Bill laughed. “Apparently not. My mistake.” He settled back in his chair. “When I reported Sheriff Babbitt’s misfortune last night, the Authority requested that Louisiana...”

Eric didn’t hear the rest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of white material beside the widow. At first he thought it was just the curtain blowing in the breeze, but turning his head slightly to the left, he saw Godric leaning against the wall watching him and he froze. He looked just as he had when Eric had last seen him alive, dressed in the simple white shirt and pants. 

“Eric? Are you listening to me?” Bill said indignantly.

“Yes.” Eric couldn’t look away and it took a second longer for Eric to realise that he could see through Godric, barely able to make out the pattern of the dark wallpaper behind him. 

Then he realised that Bill was following his gaze, trying to figure out what was wrong, but wasn’t seeing what Eric was seeing. _Like the night we buried Russell Edgington._ Despite being thoroughly unnerved, Eric forced himself to focus on Bill again.

“The Authority asked you to do what?” he prompted, conscious of the apparition watching him.

Bill frowned, deliberating, but apparently decided that Eric was done acting peculiar and continued. “The Authority has asked Louisiana to organise another social function to promote peaceful human and vampire cohabitation.”

“Because the last one went so well.”

Bill gave him a scathing look. “Yes, no thanks to the fine handiwork on your behalf. If it hadn’t been for Sookie -” 

He stopped abruptly, clearly wishing he hadn’t mentioned her. Eric looked away while Bill recomposed himself. He was fond of Sookie, yes, but now that all the drama was over, his own feelings had cooled for her a little. Though if she declared her undying love for him, he’d take her up on it and flaunt it in Bill’s face. 

Wait, profits? 

Eric swung back. “You’re not taking an increased cut from Fangtasia,” he snapped. Godric caught Eric’s eye.

“If you speak to your king with such discourtesy, you risk your neck and that of your progeny, Eric,” Godric warned. Despite the sense in his Maker’s words, Eric was too infuriated to care.

“Well, the funding has to come from somewhere,” Bill said peevishly, “and the Authority isn’t offering any financial assistance this time around. It has to be ‘bigger and better’ apparently.” 

“Which just means more expensive,” Eric muttered angrily.

“Yes.” Bill sounded as weary of the Authority’s inane politics as he was.

 _Just how big do they want this damned party to be?_ Eric gave Godric a dirty look. “You didn't have to deal with this shit.”

Godric flashed him a wry smile. “No, just you.”

Eric snorted. “Bad enough.”

Again Bill followed his gaze, and again seeing nothing there, he gave Eric a baffled look. “Eric, are you positive that you’re all right?” 

Eric ignored the question. “I can have Pam look into event planners for you,” he said. “I’m sure they can organise something nice on a shoestring budget. Chips and dip.” 

“I have humans that can do that, Eric. What I need is money to fund the event. We need a bit more than chips and dip.”

“I’m sure you can bake a cake then,” Eric said irritably. He tried another tactic. “Majesty, why not just hypnotise a few humans into doing it for free?”

Judging by the look on Bill’s face, he’d already considered the idea. “That would be...”

A lost argument already. Eric raised his eyebrows. “Unethical?” he offered.

“A poor example,” Bill said grudgingly. Eric snickered, amused that Bill would kill, but not swindle. But as it was a rule - of sorts - he upheld himself, he didn’t press.

“Then you’ll just have to find another way to your money, Majesty,” Eric said coolly. “I’m sure you can understand that running Fangtasia isn’t cheap. Our profits are good, but I have a lot of expenses and employees. Especially if I’ll have to help out Cleo with her people until her stores are rebuilt.”

“If she’s allowed to rebuild,” Bill said grimly. “Already the local council has indicated that the safety of the other humans must be a priority. Apparently she’s had a few ‘electrical fires’ in the past few months and not reported them as attacks to me.”

 _So the income of Area Three is in limbo until further notice._ Eric slumped back in the uncomfortable chair. New Orleans was located in Area One and was the most financially successful, and Bill had diverted nearly all of that money into pro-vampire political candidates and assorted PR campaigns that were obviously floundering. Eric knew that Bill had been able to manage well enough with the incomes of the other four Areas, but now the money was spread too thin.

Eric picked up the marble statue beside his chair, its hefty weight barely noticed, and began idly tossing it from hand to hand. “Maybe Sophie-Anne was on to something.”

“Don’t touch that. It’s expensive.” Bill frowned at him until he put it back. “Eager to become a drug dealer again, Eric?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Eric said. “What about a more noble cause?”

“Noble?” Bill repeated dubiously, letting the insult slide.

“Our blood has healing properties as well as intoxicating ones.”

Bill blinked in surprise. “You’re suggesting we profit from our blood by selling it to humans for medicinal purposes?”

Eric shrugged. “Our blood can heal near-fatal wounds. We could name our price.”

“So only the rich could afford it?” Bill seemed amused. “A bit cold-hearted, don’t you think?” 

“Just an idea.” Eric shrugged again.

Bill stared at him. “I can’t believe you’re actually suggesting that we willingly give humans our blood for profit.” He raised his chin loftily. “Don’t you recall what happened to the last vampire I encountered that did that?”

“So you’ll only heal a human when it suits you?” Eric sneered. “Fine then. Why not make it a tourist attraction? Open up blood bars. Like a hash bar. You could even attach it to a hotel. A little weekend package deal. Bed and vampire blood breakfast.”

He wasn’t serious, though once the words were out of his mouth, he could see how incredibly profitable such a business would be. 

He suddenly realised that Godric was beside him. He hadn’t even seen him move. Eric tensed, watching his Maker from the corner of his eye.

Godric reached out as though he were going to touch Eric’s face, but he traced the shape of his hair instead. It was not even a real touch, never coming to rest, as though he were afraid to dare more. Though he felt nothing, Eric shivered. Godric bent down, his face serious. 

“How can you say such blasphemy, my Child?” he asked softly. “I taught you that our blood is sacred.” He studied Eric's face. “You know this is a fool’s idea, yet you suggest it anyway.”

Eddie Gauthier traded his blood for sex, Eric remembered. He controlled where it was going. “Why shouldn’t we? Better we know where the blood is going than have humans drain us.” 

The disappointment he saw in Godric's eyes made his heart ache.

“This is heresy,” Bill said dismissively, eyeing him suspiciously. He could see that Eric was talking to someone else and questioning his sanity.  
Not wanting to see Godric’s face, Eric twisted his head away. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.” 

Bill scoffed. “I’d hardly call this a desperate situation, Eric.” He turned the iPad around, revealing that he had been looking at Fangtasia’s earnings for the last quarter. “I think Fangtasia can easily afford to sponsor the event.”

Eric glared at the screen, knowing that if Fangtasia ‘sponsored’ this event, there would be no end to the increased tribute. Bill would siphon all his money away.

At first he’d been amazed and impressed by Bill’s stealth at becoming king, and though Bill scored gold stars for his efforts in being a king – most of the time – Eric was quickly tiring of his insidious vendetta. All over a human. Well, half-human. Eric glanced around the office, the same room they had so efficiently killed Nan Flanagan in. It would be so easy to just kill Bill, be rid of this little irritant, and... Eric tensed, ready to pounce. 

“No, Eric.” Godric’s eyes were dark with anger. “Do not be such a fool.” His voice softened. “If you act rashly, you will regret it, my Child.”

 _And it won’t solve any of the real problems._ He remained in his seat. 

Godric stepped back. “Thank you.”

Upon hearing that, Eric felt a little calmer. He thought over Bill’s words again with a clear mind and then saw how he could twist them to his benefit. 

“Well, Fangtasia has done sponsorships before.” He stood up and smiled with fake brightness. “I’ll speak to my PR team when I get back and have someone draw up our standard agreements. Pam will bring them around tomorrow night for you to sign.”

Realising his poor choice of words, Bill glowered at him. “Bring the contracts yourself. We may need to negotiate the amount that Fangtasia will be sponsoring.”

“As this is a onetime vent, Fangtasia can afford to be generous,” Eric said. He glanced sideways and saw that Godric was still there. “I’m sure you’ll be pleased.”

“We’ll see.” Bill regarded him suspiciously when Eric didn’t look away from the corner. He evidently disliked Eric's odd behaviour. “Be sure to contact Cleo to find out who she needs you to take until she has her Area up and running again.” He nodded sharply. “You can go.” 

Bill picked up his iPad. _Probably wants to go back to having his ass handed to him by green pigs,_ Eric thought, smirking to himself. 

Yet as he was about to leave, Eric found himself reluctant to lose this vision of Godric, however chiding he was being.

Eric lingered by the door. “Bill,” he said suddenly. “When Lorena died, did you care at all?”

Bill was thrown by the unexpected question. He paused for a moment. “She’d been torturing me for hours. Why do you ask?”

Eric shrugged. “Morbid curiosity.”

To his surprise, Bill considered the question. “Lorena stole everything I held dear. My human life, my family. Some of my humanity. The same as Godric did to you, I suppose.” He shook his head. “But to answer your question, no, I did not. As much as she loved me, I did not love her back. I did not mourn her.”

“Godric stole nothing from me,” Eric said distractedly. “He offered me the Night and I accepted.

Bill blinked in surprise.

A few feet away, Godric gave Eric a small smile.

o0o0o0o0o0o

That night, Eric fed on a human woman who’d caught his eye in the club. She was dark with pale eyes, and a willing victim. Far too willing. Eric had had enough of these sycophants. But they were the only way to feed without fear now.

He wasn’t prepared to risk the True Death at the hands of Bill Compton again, just for a struggling victim. 

 

_**Three hundred years together**  
Hungary_

_“They are a match for our own kind,” Eric observed. Bodies littered the ground; there were a few still moving, but feebly, and it was those that Godric and Eric sought out._

_“Many followers of the Khan are our own kind,” Godric replied. He briefly held a wounded man to his chest and drank. When he released the man, it was just another inert body. “They are well-fed, and their lust for battle is kept sated.”_

_Eric sometimes felt Godric looked upon this type of feeding as compassionate; their victims were no longer suffering from the pain of injury and a slow death from infection or scavengers. It was also easy and safe; no one would question these deaths at the fangs of supernatural beings. Not when barbarian hordes swept across the land._

_Eric wondered if Godric still enjoyed the exquisite resistance as much as he. Perhaps after a thousand years, luring and capturing prey might begin to pall. Eric didn’t think it would; he relished it._

_Sinking his fangs into the neck of a dying old woman, he thought about his youth. Eric had been indulged as a child, given everything. Perhaps not so with Godric. Or maybe it was just the desire not to kill when already surrounded by so much death._

o0o0o0o0o0o

Eric _knew_ it was a dream. It was one he’d had dozens of times over and he could recite each wretched word effortlessly. He’d dreamt it so many times that he didn’t even wake with tears trickling down his face anymore. The first time that occurred, he’d been appalled that he could have become immune to it.

But just because there were no longer any tears on his face when he woke up didn’t make it any less painful.

“Two thousand years is enough.”

“I can't accept this.” Eric was rigid with anger, not knowing the words to coax Godric down off the rooftop. Hated it with a passion. “It's insanity.” 

“Our existence is insanity.” Godric turned gradually to look at Eric. “We don't belong here.”

“But we are here!” Eric did not want to stay here and hear these words again. Bad enough that he could summon them to mind at any given time – they could sneak up on him at any unexpected moment - but not even being able to escape them when he was sleeping?

“It's not right. We're not right.”

Eric still had no idea what his Maker meant by that. “You taught me there is no right and wrong; only survival or death.”

“I told a lie, as it turns out.”

The sun was rising fast, too fast, and Godric was not listening to reason. Eric took another approach. “I will keep you alive by force.” 

He stepped closer; a human may have been threatened by the menacing step, but such an action did not intimidate Godric in the slightest.

“Even if you could, why would you be so cruel?” His Maker countered him easily. Eric was many things, but cruel had never been one of them.

“Godric, don't do it.” His voice trembled as he swapped to their old language, hoping desperately that might stir something in Godric that would sway his mind. Godric just looked at him solemnly.

“There are centuries of faith and love between us.”

Those words always broke him. Sentiments they had never said face to face, not once in all the years they had known each other. And because of that, he doubted their truthfulness.

“Please, please.” Eric fell to his knees, sobbing. His Maker simply stood by watching him. “Please. Godric.”

“Father, brother, son.” Godric seemed to come out of the memory to focus on Eric again. “Let me go.”

Concentrating, Eric tried to regain control of himself. “I won't let you die alone.”

“Yes, you will.” Godric was gentle, but firm, and Eric couldn’t help but start crying again. A strong hand touched Eric's head and slid down his neck, forcing him backwards to meet Godric's eyes. 

Eric's stomach tightened with dread, knowing what the next words were and helpless to stop them. _At least they mean the dream will be over soon._

Godric tilted his head to the side as expected, but was silent. Eric frowned in confusion. This wasn’t happening right. Godric was meant to say, “As your Maker, I command you.” Yet he didn’t.

He just said nothing, though the expression on his face was the same as it had been on the rooftop. Calm and patient with Eric's tears. Then he spoke and Eric's heart ripped in two.

“How did I not see this weakness in you before?” Suddenly Godric wore the same half-smile as he had at the time. As if this was what he had actually said and the words, cruel and heartless, pleased him. “I should have left you on that funeral heap to rot.”

Instead of there being a command to obey, Eric could only cry out in anguish. 

“Godric, NO!”

His own scream woke him and Eric tumbled out of bed, tangling in the sheets. He hunched over, gripping his elbows and rocking back and forth as he tried to calm down. _Was that really what Godric thought?_ Eric wondered, still half caught in the dream, _and just said the other to keep me from being too emotional?_

It was a long time before Eric stopped trembling.

o0o0o0o0o0o

His appetite disappeared that night. It had happened before, never from the paucity of prey, but from stress or fear. Not that those were common feelings; he was a Viking and heir to a forgotten kingdom, after all. He couldn’t afford to be sensitive. Or at least appear to be.

 

_**Four hundred years together**  
Dadu (Beijing)_

_"You're hungry."_

_Eric said nothing, there was no sense lying to his Maker._

_"It may be some time before we can feed. Drink." Godric moved against Eric until he was mere inches away. Despite his strength, Eric felt his Maker shudder._

_Eric frowned in the gloom. "Godric, are you all right?"_

_Godric quickly shifted back. "Of course. Take my blood; it will stave off your hunger."_

_Excited, Eric pulled Godric to him and nuzzled his jawline. He extended his fangs and gently slid them into his Maker's neck._

_Through the blissful haze, Eric’s mind wandered back to the days of his humanity, and the foods he remembered enjoying._

_When Eric smiled against Godric’s neck, his Maker asked, "What are you thinking?"_

_Eric sighed unnecessarily and disengaged. “I was just remembering what I liked to eat when I was human.”_

_“Tell me,” Godric said before burrowing further into Eric’s embrace. He shuddered again, then bit into Eric’s skin._

_Eric gasped and all thoughts of freshly-caught herring, roast boar and beer fled as his world narrowed down to Godric._

_Apparently sated, Godric’s fangs withdrew. “Wine,” he whispered. “And bread scented with rosemary.”_

_“Men of simple tastes, we were,” Eric whispered against Godric’s hair._

o0o0o0o0o0o

It was a tedious night in Fangtasia. Eric shifted restlessly in his chair, looking out over the club filled with fang-bangers.

“Goddamn, this place hasn’t changed the least bit since it opened, has it?”

Indignant, Eric's head snapped around, and he could see Pam scowl from behind the bar as well. Eric scanned the crowd, trying to figure out which patron had slighted his club so he could throw them out on their ass. But there were too many people, and whoever it was didn’t say anything more that he could make out.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Pam giving each customer a measured look as she served them drinks, trying to pick out the one that had insulted Fangtasia. Though it appeared she had no more luck than he did, because she pulled none of the humans up short about the comment. 

As the night wore on, Eric came to the bitter conclusion that he would just have to accept that he wouldn’t be able to find out who had made the remark.

Closing time came an hour or so before sunrise. The vampire employees left along with the fang-bangers, some together, some alone. Eric, Pam, Chow, and Ginger stayed behind to close up. Chow moved through the restrooms, checking for signs of drugs; Ginger was out the back counting stock; Pam was moving around the bar tossing empty bottles in the recycling bins and Eric counted money from the till.

Pam stopped, put her hands on her hips, and looked at him. “Well,” she said tartly, “whoever it was, they had a valid point.” It was the longest sentence she’d said to him in days.

“Oh?” He gave her a withering look. “And what do you suggest doing to improve the place then, Pam?”

Pam narrowed her eyes at him, his cold tone of voice not lost on her. She looked around the club, frowning thoughtfully.

“Needs to be something that will still creep out the humans,” she murmured, tapping her chin, “but exciting them at the same time as well. Something out of the ordinary.” Her eyes lit up and she turned back to him. “Snakes.”

“Snakes?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

She nodded excitedly, clearly pleased with her idea. “Humans are terrified of snakes, even ones that aren’t poisonous. If we have a few tanks around the club with some huge pythons in them, the humans will be wigged out. It’ll be something new and different. Perhaps we could even let them hold them and have their photo taken with them. They’ll feel so brave, mingling with vampires and huge slithering reptiles.”

“Snakes,” Eric repeated flatly.

Pam's smile faded bit by bit. She bristled. “You don’t like it?”

He snorted and said nothing further. Folding her arms over her chest, Pam scowled. “Well, what do you suggest then?”

“Not pets,” he said scathingly.

“Then what?”

“It was just one stupid comment, Pam,” he said irritably. “Are you really so fucking dumb as to let it bother you that much?”

He was not about to tell her that the comment had offended him as much as it had clearly offended her. He simply had a burning desire to spite her, and rejecting her idea to improve Fangtasia was a good way to go about it.

Pam stiffened. “Suit yourself then.” 

Pam stormed off and Fangtasia’s front door slammed behind her. He didn’t care in the slightest where she was going.

Eric sensed someone behind him, probably Chow or Ginger, and tensed angrily.

“Please refrain from being an asshole and keep your mouth shut,” he said sharply, his fangs sliding down. “I don’t need a lecture right now.”

“Are you sure?”

Eric spun around, wide-eyed in shock, and Godric looked back at him questioningly. Eric took several steps away, looking at his Maker uneasily. 

“Why are you here?” he demanded. He glanced around the now-empty bar quickly, confirming that he was now alone, save this apparition. “You’re dead.”

Godric ignored his words completely. “Why are you being so cruel to your progeny?” he asked softly. “She has never been anything but loyal to you.”

Eric growled irritably. “You wouldn’t understand, Godric.” 

“Is that so?” His eyes gleaming with anger, Godric stepped closer. “Then explain, Eric. Why treat your own _Child_ so mercilessly?”

Lowering his eyes, Eric crossed his arms and his fangs retracted. “She disobeyed me,” he muttered sullenly. It seemed like such a poor excuse now, especially now when he hardly cared about the human in question, but at the time it had seemed desperately important. Perhaps it had been some lingering spill-over of the spell and his feelings for Sookie?

But Godric's intense gaze didn’t waver. He took a deliberate step closer, his eyes never leaving Eric's face. 

“Disobeyed you?” he repeated, his voice still soft, but now Eric could hear the scorn in it. He leaned forward. “And how many times did you disobey _me_ , my Child?”

_A trick question, surely?_

“... A couple.”

Godric stopped and looked and him incredulously. “A couple?”

“A few?” Eric shrugged nonchalantly.

Godric's brow narrowed in annoyance and Eric hid a smile. About to give another smartass retort, Eric suddenly remembered that his Maker lacked Pam's snide sense of humour. _This isn’t the sort of jest he’d appreciate._

Eric hung his head. “A lot,” he conceded contritely. Cringing, he glanced towards the door that Pam had stormed through a few minutes ago. _She would have laughed,_ he thought peevishly.

“A lot,” Godric repeated.

“Yes,” Eric sighed heavily. “I was constantly disobeying you.” He raised his eyebrows. “Happy?”

Godric continued to glare at him and Eric shifted uneasily. Angering Godric was not something to be taken lightly. Many had discovered that to their ruin. Lorena had no idea just how lucky she'd been to get out of that nest alive. 

Eric shook himself and straightened indignantly. “It doesn't matter what you think!” he snapped. “You’re dead!” 

He flung himself into the nearest chair, perversely pleased when it scraped loudly along the floor.

“Despite your objectionable behaviour, I always forgave you.” To his astonishment, Godric reached out and, for a second, Eric thought he was going to place his palm against his cheek. The prospect sent a thrill through him – when Godric had been alive, they had seldom touched each other, and so whenever he had touched Eric, it was always a pleasant surprise. But it didn’t happen. Once more, his hand hovered just above Eric's skin instead.

Disappointed, Eric looked up. Godric looked down at him steadily.

“For a hundred years, you have been the only certainty in her life – why destroy that faith?”

Godric's hand fell away and he leaned closer, his lips lingering beside Eric's ear. “What would you have done if you had lost my trust?”

The vision vanished before a horrified Eric could respond. Slowly getting up, Eric made the decision that he would not be spending the day asleep.

o0o0o0o0o0o

Eric had stopped looking at the clock over the bar. He sat slumped at a table which was still littered with half-empty glasses of stale liquor and pools of spilled synthetic blood.

Resting his head on an arm, Eric idly drew random designs in the crimson liquid. 

 

_**Five hundred years together**  
Senegambia, Africa_

_They travelled with the Portuguese slave traders, arriving on the shores of this exotic land and revelling in its perceived incivility. Godric knew better; knew the people were more cultured and tolerant than any European race._

_They spent hours lying on the warm sand, looking up and counting the innumerable stars._

_One night, while Godric inspected the sand beneath him, Eric reached out and touched his naked back – cool skin, which looked luminescent in the moonlight._

_“You were once a slave, were you not?” Eric asked._

_“For a time,” Godric said as Eric traced the red brand on his Maker’s shoulder. “Before I became what I am today.” He stretched out on his belly as Eric’s hand traced the mark’s intricate pattern._

_“I would kill the one who did this to you,” Eric vowed, scowling at the brand even as his fingers smoothed over its rough edges._

_Godric closed his eyes and smiled into the night. “He will be long dead now, Eric. And it is custom to brand one’s property.”_

_“It’s barbaric,” Eric said. Of course what he did to humans was for survival, or so he told himself. Nevertheless, since arriving, Eric had killed only Europeans._

_“But your touch is soothing.” Godric reached back and placed his hand atop his Child’s._

o0o0o0o0o0o

Now they would never share blood again… Never hold one another’s hand again.

These were the thoughts that kept Eric awake well past the dawn. Around ten in the morning, he heard the front door of Fangstasia being unlocked and opened. Ginger let out a shriek when she switched on the lights and found her boss sitting at a table, an untouched garnet-coloured bottle in front of him, and a bloody bar rag in his hand.

Eric made a face as the lights flicked on and slanted sunlight lit up the room. “Shut the door!” he growled. Ginger quickly complied.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” she asked, clearly concerned. She teetered over to Eric’s table and set down her vinyl handbag on it. Eric ignored her until she leaned closer, inspecting his face. Blood dribbled from his ears and he dabbed at his nose.

“I’m fine! Just…get on with your work.”

“But, but you’re bleeding!” Ginger whined.

Eric sighed; he was too tired to maintain a satisfactory level of anger. Instead he glared at the bottle in front of him. 

Ginger still hadn’t left his side. He knew he’d either have to glamour her or leave the room before her concern for his welfare lessened. That was just the way she was; empty-headed but kind-hearted. 

“I’ll be all right,” Eric reassured her with another resigned sigh. He knew he needed to sleep, but the peace of sleep had eluded him these last days and he was tired of fighting the dreams.

He reached out with vampiric speed and caught Ginger’s bangled wrist. She shrieked again and would have lost her balance on her ridiculously high heels had Eric let go. He looked up at her made-up face with its open innocent expression. “Wait,” he said gently, and released her arm. He was clearly frightening her by holding her fast. 

Ginger said nothing, just stared down at him.

Eric said nothing for a long moment, trying to block out the tickling of the trickling blood down his face. “Ginger, do ever remember your dreams?” he asked quietly, almost to himself.

Ginger answered enthusiastically. “Oh…sure. It’s important to remember them; they’re tellin’ you something.” She smiled down at him, clearly pleased that he’d brought up a topic she actually understood. So often Eric and Pam talked over her. 

Eric scowled. “What do you mean, ‘telling you something’?” This was precisely the answer he didn’t want to hear. 

“Well, you know, sometimes you need to hear something no one else is gonna tell you,” said Ginger, warming to her subject. “Or you feel a certain way, but don’t know you do. That’s why it’s important to talk about them.”

“You talk about your dreams?” Eric wondered what kind of dreams populated Ginger’s sleeping mind and who would want to listen to her describe them.

“Sure, I’ve got the number of the Psychic Hotline written down right next to my bed. You can’t leave it too long cause sometimes they fade, you know? And you got to make sure you remember everything you can, or else you don’t get yourself a correct reading.”

The corners of Eric’s mouth twitched and he snorted softly. Trust Ginger to go to the highest authority in dream interpretation. But the amusement was short-lived.

“Is that why you’re awake?” Ginger asked, shifting her weight to the other high-heeled foot.

 _Fuck it,_ Eric thought. He dabbed his nose and motioned to the other chair at the table. He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

Ginger sat down with a jangle of jewellery. 

“And what do they tell you, this Psychic Hotline?” Eric asked with a barely-controlled smirk. 

Ginger appeared pensive for a moment, a somewhat foreign expression for her. “Well, they’re not always so good, I think, but that’s usually because by the time I’ve finished giving them my name and credit card number, I’ve sometimes forgot everything I wanted to tell them –”

Eric looked up at the ceiling, willing the gods to give him strength. This heart-to-heart had been a bad idea; clearly staying awake for so long was affecting his judgement.

“– but I used to call one of my girlfriends over in Monroe before she moved. She was, you know, one of those Mediums, and she used to give me real good readings.”

Eric closed his eyes, trying not to lose patience with the conversation. 

“Is that why you’re still up? Do you need someone to talk to? I can give you the number to the Psychic –” Ginger reached for her bag. 

Eric abruptly raised his hand. “I don’t want the number of the Psychic Hotline.”

Ginger looked thoughtful again, before brightening with inspiration. “Well, you must know all sorts of…you know… _special_ people. Being a vampire and all, I mean.”

Eric raised his eyebrows. “By _special_ , I presume you don’t mean simple-minded.”

Ginger obviously got the hint, probably by the tone in which it was delivered. “No, I mean _special_ special. Don’t you know someone who can tell you what you’re thinking on the inside even if you’re saying something different on the outside? That’s what dreams are, after all, aren’t they?”

Eric didn’t reply. Instead he began formulating the best way to approach his version of the Psychic Hotline.

o0o0o0o0o0o

Eric used to love the challenge that was Sookie Stackhouse. Then, for a brief time, he had loved her. Now she was back to being a challenge, and although love wasn’t part of the equation any more, he counted her among the few people he could trust.

 

_**Six hundred years together**  
London_

_“And now the King will marry again,” Eric said. He reported the news after listening to the gossip in the street while out hunting. Godric had returned to the dwelling earlier._

_“How strange that custom seems to travel backwards. I remember a time quite clearly when one could leave one’s spouse if one weren’t satisfied. Or take several at once.” Godric sat at the table, fingering the dripping wax from the room’s one candle._

_“Pity one can’t leave a Child so easily, eh?” Eric teased._

_“Eric, the bond we have is stronger than any human marriage. Surely, you must feel that.”_

_“I do, Maker, and I would never suggest you would do such a thing.” Eric bowed his head and looked at the floor in supplication. “I am grateful for the life you have given me.”_

_Godric ignored the non-sequitur and reached out his hand, stroking Eric’s hair. “And yet there will come a day when you will leave.”_

_“Never, Godric.” Eric fell to his knees; he couldn’t imagine a worse fate._

_The hand in his hair stopped moving, but remained. “You have your own future, Eric and I will not always be a part of it. But we will never be truly apart.”_

_Eric felt a moment of panic. “Godric, I –”_

_“Fear not, Child. You’ll not be rid of me that easily.”_

o0o0o0o0o0o

Sookie had withdrawn back into the world of humanity since the latest losses of those she’d known and loved. And up until now, Eric had not wanted to impose in a time of grief, just as she had tip-toed around him in those first weeks following their return from Dallas.

But Sookie was too much of a resource for Eric to ignore. She wasn’t the Psychic Hotline, but she could _read_ people, even vampires, without the benefit of hearing their thoughts. Eric had never been able to deceive her for long, and the better they had got to know one another, the harder it became. He decided he would tell her the truth. After all, he needed her intuition and her memories now. And there could be no hedging about his motives. Sookie had seen a side of him no one else had. She would understand why he wanted her help.

But that didn’t mean she’d give him any.

*

Sookie frowned at him through the screen door. “Eric, we’re through, I can’t give you what you want. Right now, I’m more worried that I can’t get through a day without crying into someone’s chicken-fried steak. I’d be no good for you, and I think we’ve established that you’re no good for me.”

Eric wasn’t sure that was completely true, but he wasn’t here to talk about the two of them.

“Sookie, please let me in. I promise I won’t –”

“Won’t what, Eric? And who are you to make me promises? If you think I’m going to let you in to try to sweet-talk me or bribe me into sleeping with you, forget it because it’s not going to –”

“It’s about Godric,” Eric said quietly. 

Sookie’s mouth snapped shut and her tirade came to an abrupt end. After a thoughtful moment she asked, “What about him?”

Having finally got Sookie to shut up, Eric now wasn’t sure exactly what to say. He glanced around the homespun-looking porch hoping for inspiration. He must have looked as glum as he felt, because Sookie opened the door and walked over to the swing and sat down, evidently waiting for Eric to join her. He strode towards her but didn’t sit.

“Eric, is something the matter?” Sookie’s earlier contempt had changed to concern. “You look…tired.”

She was absolutely right; Eric _was_ tired. Tired from lack of sleep. Tired of worrying that if he did sleep, he’d be set upon by dreams and visions that he couldn’t understand. And for every one of them, he was tired of waking up to be bombarded by memories and feelings of grief. 

He wasn’t made to feel this way; he was a warrior – a thousand-year-old Viking king, for God's sake, not a child.

_Not a child..._

Eric resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. “This would be so much easier if you could hear what I was thinking,” he said softly. 

When he raised his head and finally looked at her, Sookie’s expression had changed from concern to pity. 

He couldn’t bear that. “What did Godric say to you…when...?” Eric paused and Sookie raised her eyebrows, encouraging him to continue. “After I left the roof.” 

He saw Sookie’s eyes unfocus slightly. “We talked about God… About forgiveness. I asked him if he was frightened. He said he wasn’t.” 

Eric would have smiled if he hadn’t been about to cry. That sounded just like Godric: unafraid, determined. Eric had had enough recklessness in him for both of them, and he had been fortunate that Godric had been the staying hand to his _charge-ahead_ tendencies.

“You miss him very much, don’t you?” Sookie said, breaking into Eric’s reverie.

“I do,” he admitted. “I must do or else...” he stopped, almost embarrassed to admit to why he’d come to see her.

“Eric, talk to me. Please.” Sookie’s voice was soft and comforting; the way she had been with him when they’d been together. He sat down beside her on the swing. It groaned a little under his weight and swung back and forth.

“I’m having dreams about him, and…visions, I think. While I’m awake. But they don’t seem…right, if you know what I mean. They _feel_ like Godric, but I can’t be sure it’s him. He’d changed since I’d last seen him, before Dallas. I want to believe that he is still part of me, but what he’s saying, and when he appears… I’m afraid it might just be me thinking I see him when I don’t.”

Sookie frowned. “D’you mean like you’re making it up? Or hallucinating?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s what I mean. These visions, they stir up old memories, but I’m recalling them differently now. Or maybe not. It feels like I’m just seeing another side to them than when I experienced them.”

“Well, you _have_ been around awhile, Eric. Maybe you’re just remembering things wrong.”

“It’s not the actual words; it’s the tone, the feel of them that’s different.”

“Well, what _are_ these memories you’re recalling?”

“Times when Godric and I were…close. When we were alone, living in the present, not scheming, not strategising, not fighting, aside for our own happiness.”

“That’s real sweet, Eric.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Eric said sharply. _Or was it?_ He didn’t remember having such an emotional response to these events when they had occurred. Maybe he’d missed something the first time around.

“Maybe that _is_ what you mean,” Sookie said, reading his mind without trying.

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, when you last saw Godric…” She paused; this couldn’t be easy for her to talk about either, Eric realised. “You were rescuing him, you were angry and scared and worried, and you hardly had a chance to be reunited, before…” She paused again, but this time didn’t continue. 

“So, you think that I’m having these dreams as a way of assuaging guilt over losing him? Or not appreciating the times we shared when he was here?” Eric asked testily. He didn’t appreciate having his feelings handed to him. And she was right, too, damn her. 

“You’ve just told me you’re particularly remembering times when you were together. I told you that you loved him.”

Eric said nothing. He needed all his energy to fight back the tears. Why was this so fucking hard? He was so wrapped up in his sorrow that he nearly missed Sookie’s next words. 

“He loved you too.”

Eric sniffled and fought back the urge to wipe his nose on the sleeve of his thin cashmere sweater. “What?”

“I said, Godric loved you too.” Sookie repeated. She was looking at him intensely. He didn’t like it.

“I know. Most Makers love their children. He said as much when –” 

“That’s not what I mean, Eric. He _loved_ you.”

“Did he say that?”

“He didn’t have to.” 

“Then how would you know?” Eric said without thinking. He wouldn’t be _here_ if he didn’t think Sookie was sensitive to such things. 

She ignored the question. “Was your relationship ever like...like Bill and Lorena’s?”

If vampires could blush, Eric would have. Strange how he could stand naked in front of anyone, speak in the most profane manner, expertly weave sexual innuendo into any conversation, but this… This question stirred up images both disturbing and arousing. 

“Eric?”

“No, not exactly.” Eric said, thinking of how to explain to a human what vampires couldn’t even explain to one another. “But the relationship between Maker and Child is far different than that of a human and its child.”

“I should hope so.”

“There is an inherent…sensuality to almost every aspect of being a vampire. Even feeding.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Eric.”

Eric smiled, despite himself. “And in the creation and care of a Child, sometimes that sensuality is…overtly manifested. How intensely it’s expressed is determined by one or both vampires. Sometimes it would be inappropriate or mutually undesirable to have a physical relationship, but the potential is always there.”

“So…um…did you ever feel that way toward Godric?” Sookie asked carefully. “You know, like you wanted to express…?” Now it was her turn to blush.

“Always.”

Sookie’s eyes went wide; it was clear she was expecting a different answer and wasn’t prepared for his candour. After a moment, she asked, “Did you ever tell him?”

“No.”

“Did you ever _do_ anything to…show him, then?”

Eric was silent for quite some time, thinking of the occasions when he’d come close to telling or showing Godric what he felt for him. Eric had always worried that if he did, and his feelings were not reciprocated, he would forever damage their relationship. Sometimes he came close to expressing his feelings, but in the end, Eric had concealed his desires. 

After many centuries, Godric had insisted Eric move on without him, claiming Eric would never achieve his full potential if he forever stood in his Maker’s shadow. Godric had agreed not to release Eric from their ties to one another and he had understood Godric’s assertion that he needed to move on, but wondered now at what cost. Had he stayed with Godric, had he confessed his feelings, would he now not be plagued by visions and dreams? 

Moreover, would Godric still be here?

Sookie interrupted his thoughts with another perceptive remark. “Don’t go there, Eric. I don’t think you could have done anything to stop him. And if _you_ couldn’t, no one else could have.”

“I wish I’d told him how I felt.” Eric said mostly to himself.

“I know you do.” Sookie put her hand on his arm. “Do you think he may have felt the same way?”

For all of his vampiric life, Eric hadn’t thought Godric had felt the way he had felt for his Maker. But the last few weeks had made Eric re-evaluate many of their conversations and their actions. 

Eric would often suggest they share blood, as the practice reinforced the Maker/Child bond. But, it also gave each vampire insight into the feelings of the other. Eric had had to stifle these emotions on the rare occasions Godric agreed. Even so, those moments were worth the price he paid. 

By the time he’d acknowledged his feelings for his Maker, he had been too afraid of damaging all they had built between them by disclosing them. Could Godric have done the same? Perhaps he had thought Eric wouldn’t have desired him. Eric was hardly subtle in his lust when it came to humans; perhaps Godric had believed his Child would have said plainly what he’d wanted, if Eric had wanted him.

He sighed, a habit he’d got into lately. “I don’t know, Sookie. If I think about it enough, I’m sure I could convince myself that he did feel the same way. But that only makes things worse. Because I never saw it, or couldn’t fathom it.” 

Godric had been to Eric exactly what he had said he would be before making him a vampire. He’d not said _lover_ , but how Eric had wished he had. 

“I think it would help if you talked to someone who knew him better,” Sookie suggested. “You wouldn’t have to tell them everything you’ve told me. I appreciate you being so open about it and all, but I’m sorry, Eric, I can’t help much more than that. It’s like whenever Jason would ask me for relationship advice, I could only tell him how _I_ would feel, being a girl. Unless I knew who he was talking about, I couldn’t be more specific than that. People are so different, you know? And Godric… Well, let’s just say I got the feeling he was real complex.”

Eric wasn’t sure he wanted his relationship with his Maker to be equated with that of Bon Temps’ biggest playboy, but he got the gist of Sookie’s message. 

Before she could protest, he kissed her quickly and flew out into the night.

o0o0o0o0o0o

Arriving back in Shreveport, Eric appeared in his office and dusted off his jacket. He didn’t feel the sting of the wind or the cold air, of course, but flying did make a mess of his clothes. He’d need to change before the bar opened.

 

_**Seven hundred years together**  
On the road from Naples to Rome_

_“Why does it feel like we are always running away?” Eric complained._

_The pair was making their way quickly through the throng of refugees leaving the city. They didn’t dare risk preternatural speed in this crowd, and Eric hadn’t yet discovered his ability to fly. It would have been of no use anyway; unless he could have carried Godric with him, he’d not have used it._

_“Eric, there are some things in this world we cannot kill or enthral. An angry volcano is one of them.”_

_Eric could sense Godric’s familiar smirk, that simple pull of a corner of his mouth, and heard the amused but unnecessary exhalation._

_“Although,” Godric continued, slowing his pace to match Eric’s. Eric was looking over his shoulder at the growling mountain. “If anyone could do it, it would be you. I don’t think there’s a foe who could match you.”_

_“So you keep saying, and yet remember how you found me.” Eric turned his gaze to his Maker._

_“Indeed. And still you defeated Death.” Godric smiled up at him and hastened his pace again._

o0o0o0o0o0o

He wasn’t in the mood for putting himself on display that night, even if it was setting a poor example to the vampire employees. Eric also knew that if he hid in his office or in the basement, someone would look for him there straight away, and so he’d chosen to hide out on the back wall of the alleyway behind Fangtasia. A stray cat that Ginger must have been feeding and a few rather large rats were keeping him company, though he wasn’t complaining; he liked animals.

The alleyway was proving to be a surprisingly good hidey spot. The music from inside Fangtasia was muffled so it was quiet, and there were plenty of newspapers scattered around so he didn’t lack for something to read. No-one had come looking out here for him yet.

He was trying to ignore Godric, who was standing just a few feet away. It seemed every waking moment was spent in the company of one of these visions now. Sometimes the apparitions were pleasant; Eric could almost – almost – forget that Godric was dead and was actually walking at his side as he used to. Other times, they were like the dreams, hounding him that he was weak and tormenting him.

Eric was reading an article about two vampires who had possibly been killed by Fellowship of the Sun members when the vision spoke.

“You didn’t believe me when I called them ordinary,” it said, its mouth quirked in a half smile, “did you?”

“The humans _you_ led everyone to believe had captured you and meant to kill you?” Eric turned the page. “Seeing as one of those ‘ordinary’ people walked into your home with a bomb strapped to his chest just a few minutes later, I think you were wrong on that count too.”

Godric chuckled. “What else do you think I’m wrong about?”

Eric focused intently on the newspaper. “You? Lots of things.”

“Who are you talking to?”

Pam stood in the alleyway staring at him, looking utterly bewildered. Dressed all in black, she practically blended into the background. He stiffened.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

“Who are you talking to?” she repeated. Eric just scowled back at her. 

When he didn’t reply, Pam narrowed her eyes at him. “Ginger told me that you were awake during the day,” she said nonchalantly. “Apparently you had a delightful conversation about the deeper meaning of dreams.”

Eric's fangs slid down. “Ginger has a big fucking mouth.”

“Oh please,” Pam snorted. “Everybody knows that.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I looked through a few of the security tapes, Eric. You’ve spent the past couple days awake, just hanging around Fangtasia. I bet you’ve been awake during the day at home too. Why?”

Bolting across the alley, he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall. “None of your fucking business!”

To his utmost surprise, she didn’t even struggle against him. She just stared back up at him meekly, limp in his grip. He’d never seen his hard-hearted progeny so submissive.

“You’re frightening her,” Godric commented calmly. “Don’t you remember what I said?”

“Oh, fuck off.” Eric turned to glare distrustfully at the vision. “How can I trust anything you say?”

But he knew Godric was right. 

He let go and stepped back. She slumped down the wall until she was level with his knees. 

Pam followed his gaze, still confused. “Eric, _who_ are you talking to?”

He faltered, not knowing what to say. When he didn’t snap at her again, she touched his arm tentatively, looking up at him in concern. “Tell me?” she whispered. “Please?”

“Godric,” he admitted quietly, continuing to look at the vision. The vision simply looked back at him.

“Godric?” She looked straight at Godric, but didn’t see him. Pam got to her feet. “A ghost?” 

“I don’t think so.” Eric looked at her again, weary. “I dream about him too.”

“Often?”

“Often enough.”

“Do you have any idea why?” 

“No.” Despite his lingering anger with her, it felt good to be confiding in her again. 

“Look,” Pam sighed. “Godric was a huge part of your life for a long, long time. Obviously his death affected you and you haven’t gotten over it yet.” The logic was obviously very black and white to her and the simplicity angered him.

“Pam, as your Maker, I command you to fuck off,” Eric snarled. At his side, Godric shook his head, disapproving.

“Whatever.” She spun around and headed back down the alley. She paused at the entrance and said over her shoulder, “You know, Eric, you can’t heal what you refuse to confront.” 

Eric glared after her. Then he turned and glared at the vision.

Confront how?

o0o0o0o0o0o

After that, Eric shunned his coffin in Fangtasia, avoided his apartment, and generally took himself away from anyone who could piss him off. Which was pretty much everyone. He didn’t trust himself not to sink his fangs into the first stranger he encountered, so he flew to the woods outside of town and looked for a secluded spot that wasn’t too water-logged. He dug a hole with his bare hands.

After many years of sleeping in caves or in the ground, Eric was relieved when it became easier for their kind to live a more civilised life, or at least sleep in a more civilised place. But he would return to this ancient custom from time to time, almost as if compelled. If anything else, it was a change to his normal routine, and it felt safe. 

 

_**Eight hundred years together**  
Crete_

_Eric pushed his hands into the dirt of the garden, making sure the shrub was securely planted. He was determined to see this task finished before morning._

_Eric was eight hundred years old this year, if he’d kept proper account; the measurement of time seemed to be in continuous flux. He wanted to do something for Godric to honour the occasion and celebrate their time together._

_When Eric finished, he found Godric lying on his pallet under the floor of the rough white-washed house. His eyes were closed but Eric knew he was still awake._

_Settling himself, Eric’s muzzy brain recalled his mother asking him to help her in her garden. Back then, Eric had never had patience for such things._

_Godric reached over and brought one of Eric’s hands to his face. He kissed Eric’s palm._

_“Mmm…rosemary.”_

_Eric gently pulled Godric’s hand to his lips and kissed him in the same fashion. Inching closer, he kissed his Maker lightly on the forehead and felt Godric smile against his neck._

_The pull of the sun made Eric’s eyelids heavy. He knew he had only moments left awake. He kissed Godric softly on the lips._

_There was no response; Godric was asleep._

o0o0o0o0o0o

“Pam, what is this?” Eric indicated the fabric bag resting on his desk. He’d not seen anything like it in a hundred years: it was a sewing bag, if memory served. Women would carry around their embroidery or needlepoint in things like this. The curiosity Eric had felt when he discovered it on his desk was now replaced by the slight embarrassment at actually knowing what it was.

Pam didn’t look at him. “I don’t know. I was told that it was _for your eyes only_ , if you can believe that.” Eric could sense nothing new in the emotions coming from her. Since Pam’s normal demeanour was one of annoyance, it was sometimes difficult to tell when she was really angry. 

The soft bag had a wooden handle and was monogrammed with the letters _A.S._

“Who left it?” he asked, now a bit suspicious after Pam’s response. No one aside from Pam had access to his office. Although, in the past, there had been a number of people who’d barged in without permission. And one of them had an “S” in her name – in fact, she had two. “Did Sookie leave this for me?”

At Sookie’s name, Pam’s ubiquitous scowl deepened. “You’re half-right. Bill’s little tween brought it in, saying Sookie had asked her to give it to you.” She raised a sarcastic and perfectly waxed eyebrow. “Maybe it’s your toothbrush. After all, you don’t live with her anymore.” Pam didn’t look back as she and her Jimmy Choos made a snide exit from the office.

Hearing that the bag had come from Sookie – wasn’t her grandmother’s name Adele? – Eric decided it wasn’t full of silver or explosives. He tentatively pulled the wooden handle apart and was instantly bombarded by a familiar scent. He sat down heavily, not even pausing to consider how lucky it was that he’d been standing in front of his chair. Not that it would have mattered; if he’d hit the floor, he’d have hardly noticed. 

Inside the bag was a garment. Eric could do nothing but stare at it while gulping great and unnecessary lungfuls of air. 

Time stood still. 

Then a drop of blood splashed on his arm, narrowly missing the bag and its contents. It took several seconds for Eric to realise the blood had fallen from his face; it was running down his cheeks in hot wet rivulets. He carefully placed the bag on his desk and reached for a bar rag he had stashed in a drawer. Wiping away the tears as best he could, he cautiously retrieved the bag from where it lay. He opened it fully and gently pulled out a cream-coloured tunic. 

Eric wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to cry on it, but he had to press the shirt to his face and inhale. He consciously fought back the tears while being flooded with memories of this scent – old memories, happy memories, and one very terrible memory. 

This was Godric’s. This was the tunic he’d been wearing when Eric had said goodbye to his Maker for the last time. Sookie must have had it, although how she had come to keep it, Eric couldn’t guess. 

He carefully laid the shirt aside as he lost the battle with the blood. He didn’t bother to wipe away the tears now, and they fell in soft splashes on his desk and his own clothes.

_Let me go._

The words echoed in his head like a tolling bell. “No!” Eric cried to the empty room. “Not this time.” He had no idea what he meant in saying such things; after all, he wasn’t the one responsible for the visions and the dreams.

Was he?

Eric raised an arm to his face and sobbed into his sleeve.

o0o0o0o0o0o

“Oh, I see you’re from Louisiana,” said the overly-cheerful girl at the check-in desk of the nameless human hotel in the Dallas suburbs. She handed back Eric’s driver’s licence and smiled brightly. “Welcome to Texas.”

 

_**Nine hundred years together**  
San Antonio_

_Eric was proud of himself for holding back his tears. He wasn’t losing Godric, he was just pursuing a different path. His Maker had been asked to stay after the humans' battle to help rebuild the Kingdom. He had accepted a post of Area Sheriff, the King having lost his confidence in his old guard._

_They’d been apart for short periods of time before, but always had come together again after the odd month of separation. Eric convinced himself it was out of convenience and this would be no different. He could return any time he wished to his Maker’s side._

_He promised to heed all he’d learned, but got the feeling Godric didn’t believe him. Even after so many years, Eric had discovered so much but had changed so little. The thought made him smile._

_After sleeping next to one another in the ground for one final day, Eric headed west, leaving Godric to his new responsibilities._

o0o0o0o0o0o

Eric shouldn’t have been surprised to see that the décor of Area 9’s new nest was considerably different from the old one, but he was nonetheless. The change in style – as well as location – was just one more reminder that nothing was the same since he’d left Dallas.

Sitting alone, looking around the room, Eric fought back the cruel memories by studying the new furnishings. The pieces suggested a heavy gothic style with finer Spanish and Moorish influences, reflecting the age and tastes of the oldest and most important occupant. This nest couldn’t have been more unlike the one he’d visited only months ago.

“You’ve been away. I've tried to contact you for two days,” Eric said as he watched Isabel enter the room, sit down in the ornate chair opposite and cross her shapely legs. “With _him_ , no doubt.”

Isabel’s brows came together briefly, either in puzzlement or in irritation that Eric had guessed that she’d left the city to see her lover. “That really is no business of yours,” she said, her brusque tone thickening her accent. 

“Why not bring Hugo back?” Eric asked, deciding he’d further irritate an already-open wound. There was no reason why he should be the only one suffering with the melancholy this meeting evoked. “No one here could stop you now.” 

While Isabel pondered her answer, Eric congratulated himself on inadvertently turning the conversation in the direction he'd wanted it to go without the abrupt change of subject he was sure would give his intentions away.

In the end, though, Isabel chose to ignore his question. “What do you want, Eric?” Her mood became businesslike after the earlier confusion over both Eric’s presence and opening salvo.

Eric didn’t immediately answer. Realising he was now in a position to get the information he’d come for, he hesitated. Was he afraid of sharing his concerns with Isabel? No, she was a colleague, after all, and he’d already confided in people in whom he had less trust. Perhaps what he feared were those answers he so desperately wanted.

While Eric sat momentarily speechless, he felt Isabel’s eyes on him. When he looked into her face, he saw that her expression had changed again. 

“This is about Godric, isn’t it?”

It appeared that Eric’s reluctance to speak, as well as his earlier reference to a cherished companion, was all she needed to draw out the purpose of his visit. His opinion of her rose slightly in those few seconds; she was more perceptive than he’d previously given her credit for. Then again, there were no current issues that needed discussing between them. Why else would he be there?

“I need to…” Eric began. This had been so much easier when their shared business required nothing but decisive action. Before, it had been clear what he wanted from the Dallas nest, and Eric would have done anything to find Godric, no matter how many people might be caught in the cross-fire. 

But now, it was just him. Just Eric and his emotions and his need for…closure? He shook his head at such a touchy-feely _human_ concept. But clearly Isabel had had need of the same, hence her foray out of the jurisdiction of her territory to meet with her banished human.

Isabel waited patiently. Having realised that this was not going to be an official meeting between two Sheriffs, she now seemed to want to tread more lightly.

Eric considered taking a deep breath, but didn't and instead decided to ingratiate himself. "Yes, it is about Godric. As you know, I was…pleased that you alerted me to his disappearance." Eric didn't meet her eyes.

"And now?" Isabel prompted.

Eric did take that breath, if only to stall for time. He changed tack again. "You've served in this Area for a long time, have you not?" 

"Over forty years," Isabel replied.

Eric continued, looking up. "And you knew Godric well?"

Isabel smiled almost fondly. "I like to think so. Not as well as you, of course." Her smile widened but Eric didn’t return it. He said nothing until Isabel prompted gently. "What is this about?" 

"Did you notice anything…unusual about him before he disappeared?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Eric continued, almost as if talking to himself. "He seemed so different when…I was last here. Not just resigned; I've seen him like that before, but this wasn't the same." 

Isabel uncrossed her legs. Her perfectly-presented appearance belied the confusion Eric was sure she felt about his question. Perhaps it also reflected her recollection of Godric's behaviour in his final days. "I knew he wasn't content in his job. I'm not sure he'd ever wanted it; so much of it involved mitigating problems between humans and vampires. And I think that led to his feelings of…disillusion. As long as I'd known him, he'd always hoped that after the Revelation, things would change, that humans and vampires could co-exist. I didn’t hold out much hope, and Stan, as you know, actively hated the idea, but Godric truly believed it could be possible."

Eric smiled, despite himself. 

"What is it?" Isabel asked.

"He never thought like that when we were together." Eric could still remember the indifference Godric felt for humans in earlier times. Many vampires, including Eric and Isabel, used humans for more than just food, but not Godric. To him – aside from once, a thousand years ago – humans were solely a means to subsist. It wasn’t contempt Godric had felt towards them, only apathy.

Later, perhaps, after supernatural creatures became increasingly entangled in human affairs, Godric had taken a more active interest in humankind. Eric thought of the last time he'd seen Godric before Dallas, during the War, when they had worked together to rid the Reich of the sadistic weres. 

"Godric rarely talked about his motives," Isabel confided. "He just did what he thought best, coldly and efficiently. I usually agreed with his decisions. I don't think Stan would say the same." Isabel again allowed herself a small smile. "Godric didn't usually ask for our opinions; he would just issue instructions, which we followed. He might raise his voice, but the only times I ever saw him become…emotional, were when –" she broke off.

"What?" Eric moved to the edge of his seat. "When?"

Isobel looked directly at Eric. "When there was news of you…"

*

_“Godric, you should go there. If you value this enterprise – this club that Eric has opened which brings humans and vampires together – you could lend him your support. After all, you have often spoken of the value of peaceful co-existence.”_

_“No, Isabel, my presence would only serve to irritate him; he would think I was judging him, or being over-protective. Besides, we must be vigilant of all the Fellowship of the Sun activity building in the Area. I cannot leave now.”_

_“But you have not seen Eric in many years. I am sure he misses you as much as you miss him. I am not blind, Godric.”_

_“I said no!”_

_“Of course, Sheriff.”_

_“Forgive me, Isabel.”_

_“It is clear you still care deeply about him.”_

_“Of course I do; he is my Child.”_

_“Yes, Godric.”_

_“Tell me more about this club.”_

_“From what I understand, he’s opened it as a business, but I think he also believes that times are changing for all of us. Or maybe it’s just a…gimmick. However, it seems to be a success, considering his Area is not as cosmopolitan as we’re used to.”_

_“I care little for the financial implications, but if it furthers good relations…”_

_“Then it is lucky for Eric that he cares about the money and the business is thriving, since he did not learn these skills from you.”_

_“Are you teasing me, Isabel?”_

_“ _Tranquilo_ , Godric. I mean no disrespect.”_

_“You think I’m ignoring my Maker’s duties. Eric is a thousand years old; he will thrive best on his own.”_

_“But this club of his – are you not curious? You do not want to visit it at all?”_

_“No.”_

_“I would be more willing to believe you if it were owned by anyone else. At least you might look at its website.”_

_“I would not know how to find it.”_

_“I will show you. I’m sure there’s a lot of information about the club on it, about its owner, even an online shop. If nothing else, you could contribute to the club’s profits and support Eric in that way. Maybe a small memento…?”_

_“Perhaps.”_

_“There may be pictures of him on the website, too.”_

_“I do not need to see pictures of Eric, Isabel. I see him every time I close my eyes.”_

*

Eric was silent while Isabel recounted the conversation. He didn’t know how to feel. Part of him was amused at the image of Godric, with that damnable patient-yet-impatient manner of his, sitting in front of a computer while Isabel or perhaps Hugo – he would be more tech savvy – searched for Fangtasia’s website. What would Godric have thought about the garish colours, the stereotypical design, the gothic-fonted text splashed across the virtual backgrounds?

But as the image in his mind’s eye faded, Eric recalled Isabel’s words. _She_ hadn’t needed to read between the lines. How had Eric missed the clues for so long, for so many centuries? In his heart, Eric knew that Godric had never truly concealed anything from him. Eric had just been too busy running towards his future to realise what his Maker had been trying to say, had been trying to say since the night Eric had lain dying on his funeral pyre. 

He buried his head in his hands and once again fought back the tears. He barely heard Isabel stand, leave the room and return. 

Finally, when Eric was sure the blood was held at bay behind his eyes, he looked up to see Isabel holding a shot glass with the gaudy Fangtasia logo splashed across it. 

“I’m sure there are boxes of these sitting in a store-room in the back of your club,” she said handing it to him. “But this one is special.”

Eric took the glass and pressed his eyelids together as hard as he could. 

“Yes, it is,” was all he could utter before leaving. He knew Isabel would understand that he was as grateful for her words as he was for the cheap souvenir he held clutched in his hand.

o0o0o0o0o0o

Eric made his way back to Shreveport thinking, not for the first time, that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Could he be satisfied with inertia? Could he carry on as before? Or had he already made that choice and yet again, simply not realised it?

 

_**One thousand years together**  
Berlin_

_“I will follow you back to the New World. If the were’s leader is as smart as we think he is, he will flee; there is nothing for him here now, his pack is scattered, the Reich is in tatters.”_

_Eric watched as Godric finished donning the clothes of his latest victim. Their SS uniforms were abandoned in the rubble._

_“Where will you go?”_

_“Back to Texas. But this Queen who’s taken a fancy to you will hardly let you accompany me. Not when she has need of you as Sheriff.”_

_Eric could read nothing into Godric’s tone. Did he not feel anything? “Will I see you again?” Eric staunched his emotions like the flow of blood from an open wound._

_But Eric saw his Maker’s eyes turn red-rimmed. “Of course, my Child. You are everything to me.”_

_Before Eric could reply, the pair heard someone call out in Russian. The soldiers were nearing the vampires as they searched for their missing comrades._

_“Come, Eric. It is time to leave this sad place.”_

o0o0o0o0o0o

Walking slowing towards his office, Eric was pulled out of his thoughts by a young man coming through the gaudy ruby curtain that separated the main club of Fangtasia from the back offices. The man went bright pink when he saw Eric, quickly covering the two puncture marks on his neck.

“Um, um, um,” the human stammered. “Hi?” 

Eric cocked his head to the side, quirking an eyebrow. “Been somewhere you shouldn’t have?” His blue eyes flicked to the curtain. “Say, my office?”

“Uh, she said it didn’t matter.” The man cringed. “The guy who owned the office was away...”

“But you went with her anyway.” Eric smiled, showing his fangs. “Even though you knew it was my office?”

“Please don’t kill me!” the man whimpered as he backed up, nearly falling backwards through the curtain he’d just come through.

Tired of the game, Eric snorted. “I may not be so kind a second time. Now run along home.”

As the human fled, Eric smirked over his shoulder, amused. Pam was freely allowed to feed in his office – she just had an irritating habit of making a mess and not cleaning up after herself if he wasn’t around. 

Resigned at having to clean up –probably having to put up with a vision of Godric talking to him while he did so - he was startled to see Pam straightening out the office.

Realising he was there, Pam stood upright. “Eric.” She glanced at the shot glass in his hand, but didn’t comment on it. Instead, she lowered her eyes, neatly-manicured hands adjusting empty bottles and fiddling with pens. “I’ll be gone in a minute. Just need to finish -”

“Cleaning up?” he interrupted, leaning against the doorframe. “Must be a first for you.”

Her lips pressed together in an effort to give him a tight smile. “Probably.” She continued to smooth out papers, though as far as he could see, there wasn’t any particular order to it. 

After a minute or two of intense but pointless attention on the papers, Eric got the impression she was procrastinating.

“Pam?” he prompted, curious. She hadn’t mentioned the whole Godric... thing either, which he found a little surprising. And a little hurtful.

She set the papers down and drew an unnecessary breath. “I’m going.”

There was hardness, a resolve in her voice, and it took a few seconds for her true meaning to sink in. He drew back, completely caught off guard. “You want me to release you?”

She fiddled with one of the gold bracelets on her wrist. “Eric, you hate me because I tried to save your life,” she said slowly. “We’ve been together over a hundred years and with you... gone like that, I’d never realised that I could feel so...” She stopped and a solitary tear rolled down her cheek.

 _She’s lost faith in me,_ he realised in horror, remembering what Godric's apparition had said not too long ago. _That I’ve abandoned her._

“I mean to release you someday,” he said softly. “I know you will be an excellent Maker.”

She laughed bitterly. “But like this!” She swiped at her face, but tears were falling down her cheeks. Her mouth twitched in disgust. “Because of a human.” 

“No.” He walked around the desk. “Not because of a human. I won’t lose you because of a human.”

He turned her face to face his, though she avoided meeting his eyes. _I don’t want to be at war with her._ He knew that with utter certainty, despite his recent actions towards her. _She’s mine and always will be._

“Pam, don’t doubt, ever, that I love you.” He smiled in relief when she tentatively looked up at him. “I never meant to make you feel alone. Especially when I’m right here.”

Though never one to show emotion, Pam smiled tearfully and hugged him tightly, burying her face in his shirt. Eric hugged her back, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. 

“I love you, too.” Pam sniffled. “Thank you, Eric.” 

Naturally, it was Pam who ended the hug first.

“You’re a real sappy bastard when you want to be, anyone ever tell you that?”

Sniggering, Eric let her go, pointedly handing her a rag so she could wipe the bloody tears off her face. He smiled wryly as she cleaned her face.

As she tossed the rag on the desk, she noticed the shot glass. She held it up, raising her eyebrow in a silent question.

He took it off her and set it back on the desk. “From Dallas.” It was the only explanation he was willing to give. 

Nodding, Pam frowned thoughtfully and moved towards the door. Eric glanced around the office, suddenly noting the room wasn’t exactly clean yet. Just before he could open his mouth to yell at her to ‘Get back here and finish cleaning up this mess’, she turned around. 

“Eric, you and Godric will always be unfinished business – only if you let it.”

As he considered her words, she darted off, leaving him with two messes to sort out.

o0o0o0o0o0o

Eric sat at his desk, his attention again focused on the stack of invoices in front of him. The ever-present thumping beat from the dance music permeated the thin office wall, but Eric was long immune to its distraction. Vampire ears were sensitive, but inconsequential background noise could be blocked out.

Not sensitive enough were Eric’s ears to hear the silent appearance of his Maker’s visage at his side, but Eric _felt_ it nonetheless. 

He turned quickly, swivelling in his chair to face Godric’s ethereal form. This time he really looked at the vision of his Maker. Previously, Eric had had little time to truly focus on the familiar arch of an eyebrow or the slow shake of Godric’s head before he spoke. Now he even noticed that the tunic Godric wore was the one which Eric had sequestered away in his bedroom.

“I am disturbing you?” Godric asked, glancing at the papers littering the desk.

“No,” Eric said automatically, then frowned. He realised he’d not been working; he’d been thinking about his Maker, about the last few days, about the last thousand years. 

“What is it?” Godric asked in that serene but forthright tone.

“Godric,” Eric started, wondering for the hundredth time if he were responsible for conjuring these visions. “ _Are_ you here?” Pam had been no help in answering this question. Even Ginger and Sookie seemed to think that Godric and Eric still had an uncannily strong connection.

“I am here when you need me, Eric,” was Godric’s cryptic response. A ghost of a smile, that small tug on the side of Godric’s mouth that he would remember forever, pulled Eric more fully into the past.

He must have looked worried or maybe puzzled. He was neither. Eric glanced at the floor then directly into the face of his Maker. “Did you love me?” There was no breath to hold, no heartbeat to speed up, just the now-noticed beat of the music and voices of patrons as they carried on with their own dramas.

“What do _you_ think?” 

Eric’s gaze flitted to the shot glass he’d left on the desk. Somehow he felt comforted knowing it was in plain sight.

Without looking away from it, Eric murmured, “I think you did.” 

Then there was no music or voices, just Godric leaning down and obscuring Eric’s view of everything. He was the only thing Eric could see. His whole world. 

He shouldn’t be able to _feel_ a vision, should he? But this time Eric did feel Godric’s fingers tangle in his short hair. And he could tell his Maker’s smile had widened when Godric kissed him.

**The End**

*Sheriff Cleo Babbitt of Area Three is lifted straight out of Charlaine Harris’s Sookie Stackhouse novels.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Vampire Big Bang](http://vampirebigbang.livejournal.com/36147.html) on Livejournal. Enormous bloody kisses to our artists naturegirlrocks and joan_waterhouse, and to our beta and proof-readers. Thanks also to the fabulous [Allan Hyde](http://www.allanhyde.com/) & [Alexander Skarsgard](http://alexskarsgard.net/) for inspiring us. Title taken from a quote by C. Northcote Parkinson. These characters belong to Charlaine Harris, Alan Ball & HBO, and not us :(


End file.
